Since You've Been Gone
by Tigrislupa
Summary: After months abroad, Tim returns home only to find that things have changed in his absence. Brothers can be such a pain.


The first part of this fic was inspired by one of Kaciart's drawings, and the last part by something Incogneat-oh mentioned (who really needs to start watching what they say online as they are fast becoming my muse).  
Many thanks to The Almighty Pharaoh and blackash for betaing this!

* * *

Gotham County was still and quiet this time of night but for the sole motorcycle shooting along the deserted highway. Peeling off down an exit, the rider began down the weaving two lane roads dappled with moonlight through shadowing trees. The hillsides gradually became steeper and steeper, turning to stone, signs warning for falling rocks dotting the roadside.

Suddenly, the bike veered toward and into the cliff face. Passing through the holographic entrance, the roar of the bike's engine became deafening in the hidden tunnel, only abating to a dull thunder as the cycle slowed and pulled into a massive cave.

After months abroad, the sound of screeching bats was music to Tim's ears.

Wending through the tunnel over to his bike's spot and easing to a stop, he killed the engine and paused, sitting back to relax for a moment. Removing his helmet and shaking out sweat dampened hair, Tim couldn't help but smile. It was good to be back. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, savoring all the mixed smells of the cave. A whiff of gasoline and rubber, the barest hint of antiseptic, a trace of perspiration, and over it all the damp and slightly musty scent of the cave itself. It was safety. It was contentment. It was home.

Dismounting and walking towards the main portion of the cave, he started to take in the small changes from the last time he'd been there. Tim couldn't help the small smile at the sight of Dick's bike on the other end of the garage. Next to it was an unfamiliar one, probably Bruce's latest Batcycle prototype. To the left he could see the Batmobile had undergone a few modifications, looking sleeker and deadlier than ever before. Over to the right he could see the medical center, all its beds thankfully empty, and the trophy collection. It looked like there were a couple of new display cases. _Surely no one had-_ But, no, none of them were the right size for a costume and he was being ridiculous because _they would have told him if something happened, wouldn't they?_

Jerking his head straight and giving it a small shake, Tim brushed the thought to the back of his mind, making a mental note to look up the cases involved. He was close enough now to make out the figure staring up at the monitors. It looked like Bruce; the proportions were right and so was the posture, but it wasn't. Not quite.

"Damian?"

"Drake." The younger's eyes never left the screen, only shifting to type new commands. Coming to stand off to the side of Damian's chair, Tim stared at the information scrolling past while observing his little brother out of the corner of his eye. The differences between the teen sitting next to him and the child in his memories were startling.

It's not that Tim had avoided the latest Robin on his previous visits, but distance always seemed to help their rapport. Granted, the brat had grown a lot, and not just physically. Most of his emotional development Tim attributed to Dick's influence, and while the little hellion would probably always be more violent than the rest of them, he'd definitely toned it down. That was obvious enough with how their own relationship had progressed. Although their banter would never be as light as Tim and Dick's, he and Damian no longer aimed below the belt with their verbal barbs. A mutual respect had developed.

It was nice to have one less family member gunning for you.

Physically, the boy resembled his father more and more every time Tim saw him. His frame continued to grow larger and more toned, his jaw squaring as baby fat left him. Even his hair was starting to look more like Bruce's style, although Tim wasn't sure how conscious a decision that was and wasn't about to ask. It wasn't just that he looked like his father either. Damian's voice had dropped just shy of Bruce's baritone, and it was close enough that hearing him over the transmitters could be startling.

"If you're done staring, would you finish your business and leave? Some of us are actually working."

Giving a small huff of laughter, Tim retorted, "Oh please, you're just bored and looking through cold case files."

Scowling, Damian responded, "Cold cases are still cases. I have noted a number under your name. It is a wonder you ever solved anything."

Tim rolled his eyes. "If you're done talking nonsense, some of us would like to enter our reports and get to bed at a halfway decent time. And where's Bruce?"

"Father will be gone for the rest of the week on League business. And you may use the machine when I am done with it."

"Fine, I'll just go upstairs and enter it there."

"Tt, no matter. The computer is yours." Pushing back from the console, the younger boy stood, pausing in front of Tim, probably for one last retort.

Whatever snide comment Damian said was lost on Tim. Whenever he had pictured coming back to the Manor and engaging in their spats, he always imagined them standing toe to toe, eye to eye.

Not eye to _chin_.

_Wha-when did this happened?_ Had the brat really changed that much while he was gone? But, no, thinking back…when was the last time he and Damian had stood by each other? They'd fought together, done surveillance together, but nothing in such close quarters. Had it really been that long since it'd been the brat staring at _his_ chin?

Speaking of that, glancing up Tim saw lips pursed in annoyance and eyes crinkled in not quite concern.

"Honestly, Drake, if you are just going to stand there like a buffoon-"

But whatever Damian was going to say was drowned out by loud voices echoing down the staircase and two figures barreling into the cave.

All of a sudden it made sense. Bruce didn't buy a new bike.

"Jason?"

Dick's face flashed surprise before morphing into sheer delight, while Jason's smirk became distinctly more devilish.

"Timmy!" was the only warning he got before all of a sudden there was Dick and his squeezing arms, and if Tim's heels couldn't touch the floor he wasn't going to mention it.

Peering over Dick's shoulder Tim could see Jason and Damian greeting each other, both sporting mischievous grins that only widened when they caught Tim staring.

_What the hell happened while I was gone?_

"Hey, Replacement. Miss me?"

Tim pulled back as Dick's arms loosened, staring the eldest in the eye, confusion only slightly soothed by a reassuring smile.

"As you've probably guessed, a lot's happened since you've been gone. Jason-" here Dick paused, seeming to mull over his words, "There was a peace treaty of sorts."

Tim leaned forward, whispering insistently, "When did this happen? What do you mean a peace treaty? Are you sure-"

A waving hand cut off his questions, "This has already been going on for about two months. Jason's been really good at holding up his end of the deal. There haven't been any major fights or anything. In fact, he and Damian have been getting along really well."

Tilting his head, Tim can see past Dick to the two of them…conspiring was the only word that fit. Given how they kept glancing at him, his older brother's assurances did little to diminish his wariness.

"Yeah, Dick, that's just…great."

"Aw, cheer up, Timmy. C'mon, we can all grab a mug of hot chocolate and watch a movie or something."

Tim ducked under the arm reaching towards him, starting towards the computer terminal. "Maybe later, I want to enter this report-"

But encircling arms drew him back into a broad chest. "Nuh-uh, tonight's the first night we've all been together in ages. We're celebrating."

"_Dick-_"

"Aw, what's the matter, Baby Bird?" Jason sauntered into view, Damian smug beside him. "Don't you want to spend time with your brothers?"

Scowling, Tim glared up, the effect somewhat diminished with Dick's chin resting on his head, "There's nothing wrong with getting work done first. And I don't you think you can call me that when Damian's right there."

"Nah, the brat may be younger, but you're the baby bird." Leaning down so that they were eye to eye, Jason taunted, "Besides, can't call him that when he's got that many inches on you."

With his face that close, there was no way he missed Tim's eye twitch. Cackles echoed as Jason threw his head back. "That a sore spot, shrimp? Ya got a height complex top of everything else?"

Snarl lost in the echoing, Tim tried to take a threatening step forward, but draped arms became iron bands locked around his shoulders, squeezing him tighter than ever.

"Does it really bother you, Timmy?"

Before he could answer, Damian's eyes alit with understanding before scoffing, "Was that what was wrong with you earlier? Honestly, Drake, you think you would have gotten used to being beneath me."

Damian's response was all the confirmation Dick needed. Pressing a kiss to the back of Tim's head, he reassured, "You know we love you just as you are-"

"We do?"

Glaring at his snickering brothers, Dick continued, "And that includes whatever height you end up. You're an amazing person, and I'm proud to call you my brother. And so are those two jerks even if they'll never admit it. Understand?"

Arms crossed, head ducked, and fighting a rising blush, Tim muttered out, "I appreciate it, Dick, and I know. Really, it's not that big of a deal." A disbelieving scoff made Tim turn a piercing glare on his younger brother.

"I'm glad you know, because really," Dick's arms squeezed tighter, "you're so cute and little, Tim."

"Go die, Dick."

Jason and Damian's smirks were back and more predatory than ever. Tim's scowl deepened.

"Yeah, Drake, just 'adorable.'"

Tim's retort caught in his throat as unholy glee flashed across Jason's face.

"I think this may call for a photo."

Dick practically squealed with delight. Snapping his jaw closed, Tim reigned in his horror, only to find himself being frog-marched towards the manor.

"What? No! Dick!"

"It'll be our first family photo all together!" Tim felt a bit bad for raining on Dick's enthusiasm. But then Damian and Jason sidled up on either side of them and all guilt vanished.

"Listen, I still have to do my report-"

"Which'll still be there in the mornin'."

"And so will the camera." He had to work fast; they were already passing into Bruce's study. "Look, I just got back in the country. All I want to do is take a hot shower and go to bed. Can we do this another time?" Tim turned in Dick's slackening hold, locking eyes with him and going in for the kill. "Please?"

Tim used every tool that Alfred had ever taught him to try and look more tired and pitiful. Emotions warred on Dick's face. On the one hand, this was an opportunity for a priceless photo that Tim would do everything in his power to avoid in the morning. On the other, Tim was trying to take care of himself, and he had just finished a mission, and the camera _would_ be there…

Dick let go, much to the other two's dismay. "Fine, but we _are_ doing this tomorrow."

Sighing, Tim burrowed into his covers, his only coherent thoughts on the warmth and soft surrounding him. Life was good. There was absolutely no reason to get out of bed and venture into the cold morning air. No one was trying to kill anyone, or steal anything, or overthrow any governments. He was free to just stay in bed and slowly ease into wakefulness.

Humming contentedly, Tim started making a list of things to do that day. He needed to replenish all the gear in his bandoliers and give it all a thorough cleaning. On top of all that, his bike needed a good work over. Oh, and he still needed to write up that report.

Tim jolted awake.

Scenes from the past night flashed in his mind's eye. Groaning, Tim buried his face in his pillow before turning grumpy eyes on his clock. _Maybe they'll have forgotten all about it? _Picturing the look on Dick's face last night, Tim knew even a massive breakout from Arkham wasn't going to deter his brother. Grumbling into his pillow one last time, he sat up because, really, it was almost eleven and he had things to do and people to avoid. Sliding out of bed with a stretch and a yawn, he started towards the bathroom to begin his morning rituals.

Returning to his room and softly closing his door behind him, the first thing he needed to do was to change out of his pajamas. He had indulged last night and worn his comfiest pair, but there was no way he was letting Dick catch him in Pac-Man pajamas.

Slipping on a worn pair of jeans, he was just trying to find a shirt he wouldn't mind getting any oil on when his door slammed open.

"Morni-jeez, Timmy, tense much?" Dick stood grinning inside his doorway, holding a comb that had, moments ago, been lying on Tim's dresser.

"You know, there's this thing called knocking. It's this great thing that lets a person know when someone wants to come in."

Dick strode in unrepentantly, placing the comb back and ruffling his brother's hair before frowning. "What are you looking for?"

"I need a shirt I don't mind ruining."

"Why?"

Tim turned back to hunting for a proper top. "I need to clean my equipment today, and my bike was sounding a bit off so I was going to go ahead and give it an overhaul."

Warm, callused hands settled on his shoulders before directing him away from his drawers. "Nope, you can change and do that later. Right now you need to have breakfast so we can take our picture."

"Dick-"

"Nope, you said we could do it later. Today is later."

"But-"

"Bruce left me in charge of you all, and I say today is picture day."

"Yes, your majesty." Settling on the side of his bed, Tim watched as Dick rummaged through his closet and drawers, lightly bouncing and humming a little ditty as he did so.

Before he knew it Dick was standing in front of him and dumping a bundle of clothes in his lap.

"Here, wear this. Now, I expect you down for breakfast in five minutes or I'm coming up to get you." And with that, he strode from the room closing the door behind him.

Tim had only just glanced towards sunlight and freedom before a cheerful "Don't even think about climbing out the window!" rang out.

Flopping back on his bed, Tim could only wonder how these things happened to him.

Trudging to a halt outside the kitchen door, Tim listened for signs of who was inside. Gleeful chattering, a sneering drawl, and haughty remarks. That made it everyone, except, wait for it.

Silence rang out but for a quiet British voice.

And there was Alfred. Waiting until the older man had said his piece, Tim strode in just as the others were starting to wind back up.

"There you are!" Dick's exuberance flashed to confusion before settling on a pout. "Why aren't you wearing the outfit I picked out?"

"'S'cause he actually wants to look nice, Dickie-bird," Jason chimed in around a mouthful of waffles.

Dick flashed a mock hurt look at Jason before turning to Damian. "You like my sense of style, don't you, Damian?"

Swallowing, the youngest raised his eyebrow. "Really, Grayson, what sort of question is that? You're acting like a complete child."

Tim had just settled on the other side of Damian when Dick rose, taking his dishes over to Alfred, loudly proclaiming, "Thanks for waffles, Alfred. You know, sometimes I feel like you're the only one in this family who appreciates me."

Rolling his eyes, Jason tilted his chair back, surveying his younger brothers as they ate. "Y'know, Baby B, for not wanting to be in this picture, ya sure smartened yourself up. Combed your hair and everythin'."

Setting down his orange juice, Tim gave the leering man an annoyed look. "Just because I don't want to, doesn't mean I'm not going to look nice while I do it."

"Spoken like a true little Bat."

Tim ignored the barb in favor of his waffle.

Just when Tim set down his knife and fork, Dick came bounding over, pulling him and his chair out and ushering his brothers toward the hall. "C'mon! Alfred agreed to do it! He's going down to get one of the cameras from the cave before he meets us in the family room."

Dick's enthusiasm was endless. One moment he'd be bouncing and tumbling ahead of them, the next he'd come gamboling back urging them to go faster.

Finally filing into their destination, Dick started herding them towards the main seating area, stating, "Alfred suggested we stand in front of the fireplace."

Standing back, Dick surveyed his family through squared fingers. One sulking younger brother, one bored younger brother, and one scheming younger brother. Now, for the fun part.

"All right, Timmy, you get to stand in the front, little to the left, no my left, perfect. Jason, you stand right behind him. Don't worry, you don't block him, Timbo. Damian, you come and stand on Jason's left. That's it, now come forward a bit."

"Grayson, is all this really necessary?"

Squinting and taking a step back, Dick assured, "Of course it is, Damian."

"Who died and made you king of the roost, Goldie?"

Dick grinned, "I told you before. Bruce left me in charge-"

"Of _Gotham_."

"-while he was gone, so it's my duty to look out for you all. And right now, that means capturing your best sides. Now budge up, Jason, I'm going to need to stand opposite Damian."

"That is such a pile of-"

Dick held up his hands, a look of sheer innocence plastered on his face. "Look, I don't make the rules-"

"Yeah, well, the rules can kiss my-"

At that the door to the room opened and Alfred calmly strode in, camera case and tripod in hand.

"Ah, very good young masters. Master Dick, if you would join them, I'll have this set up momentarily."

Dick hesitated, "You sure you don't want any help with that, Alfred?"

"I assure you I shall manage just fine, but thank you."

Trotting over to his place, Dick quickly leapt back to avoid the elbow Jason not-so-subtly jabbed his way.

"What was that for?"

"Just for being you, _Dick_."

Dick stuck his tongue out before looking at his other brothers. "Lighten up, you two. This is supposed to be fun!"

"Tt."

"This would be a lot better if it wasn't the three of you mocking me."

"Aw, Timmy, we're not…_I'm_ not mocking you for anything. Like I said last night, this is the first time we've all been under one roof without fighting. Think of this more like memorializing the occasion."

"Yeah, Baby Bird, if we wanted to mock you, we'd say something like, 'We need to boost you up 'cause you're too short for the shot.' In fact…"

Tim tensed as arms looped around from behind, pinning his arms to his sides before lifting him up off the floor.

"Jason! Put me down!"

"But don't you want the camera to see you, Baby B?"

Tim stopped his fruitless struggles to try and twist and snarl something at his captor, when all of a sudden Dick's hand was ruffling his hair.

"Look, Timmy, you're actually taller than I am!"

"Yes, Drake, you should savor this moment."

Tim tried not to think about how far above the ground that meant his feet were dangling.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew four pairs of eyes to the other side of the room. Alfred stood patiently waiting behind the camera.

Inclining his head slightly, he intoned, "Master Jason, if you would."

Tim dropped to the floor, rubbing his arms and scowling up at Jason as he straightened. Combing his hands through his hair in an effort to straighten out the mess Dick had made of it, he centered himself in his proper spot while the others regrouped around him.

"On the count of three, sirs. One, two, three."

And just like that the boys were thanking Alfred before bustling out of the room, a cacophony of noise echoing in their wake.

Looking down at the camera screen, Alfred saw a group of fine young men proudly staring into the future, the portrait of their grandparents watching over them. This would make a fine addition to the mantle in the study. However…

Scrolling back to the previous picture, one he took before getting his boys' attention, the old man observed the vivacious life of his grandsons, all of their smiles and smirks and fighting spirits. He saw the distance they'd come to share this moment together, the strength that had grown within and between each of them.

Alfred knew which of the pictures was going to rest on his bedside table.


End file.
